Pokemon Mystery Dungeon fun
by zeke11
Summary: I hope you like it


I don't own pokemon but I do own Gregor

Cutting room floor of Mystery Dungeon. 

_One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in bed he had been changed into a Chikorita. He lay on his leaf-coated back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his green body. From this height the blanket, covering his entire body, could hardly move. His small pointy legs, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of his circumference, flailed helplessly before his eyes._

"What's happened to me," he thought. It was no dream. His room, a proper room for a human being, only somewhat too large, lay quietly between the four well-known walls. Above the table, on which an unpacked collection of sample cloth goods was spread out—Samsa was a Pokemon Trainer—hung the picture which he had cut out of an illustrated magazine a little while ago and set in a pretty gilt frame. It was a picture of a woman with a fur hat and a fur boa. She sat erect there, lifting up in the direction of the viewer a solid fur muff into which her entire forearm had disappeared.

Gregor's glance then turned to the window. The dreary weather—the rain drops were falling audibly down on the metal window ledge—made him quite melancholy. "Why don't I keep sleeping for a little while longer and forget all this foolishness," he thought.

"O God," he thought, "what a demanding job I've chosen! Day in, day out, on the road. The stresses of training are much greater than the work going on at the League, and, in addition to that, I have to cope with the problems of travelling, the worries about train connections, irregular bad food, temporary and constantly changing human relationships, which never come from the heart. To hell with it all!" He felt a slight itching on the top of his leaf. He slowly pushed himself on his back closer to the bed post so that he could lift his head more easily, found the itchy part, and wanted to feel the place with his leg. But he retracted it immediately, for they were too small to even reach. He slid back again into his earlier position. "This getting up early," he thought, "makes a trainer quite idiotic. A trainer must have his sleep. Other trainers live like harem women. For instance, when I come back to the Pokemon Center during the course of the morning to write up the necessary orders, these trainers are just sitting down to breakfast. Still, who knows whether that mightn't be really good for me? If I didn't hold back for my parents' sake, I'd have quit ages ago. In any case, right now I have to get up. My train leaves at five o'clock."

He looked over at the alarm clock ticking away by the chest of drawers. "Good God!" he thought. It was half past six, and the hands were going quietly on. It was past the half hour, already nearly quarter to. Could the alarm have failed to ring? One saw from the bed that it was properly set for four o'clock. Certainly it had rung. Yes, but was it possible to sleep through that noise which made the furniture shake? Now, it is true he had not slept quietly, but evidently he had slept all the more deeply. Still, what should he do now? Apart from a really excessive drowsiness after the long sleep, Gregor in fact felt quite well and even had a really strong appetite.  
As he was thinking all this over in the greatest haste, without being able to make the decision to get out of bed—the alarm clock was indicating exactly quarter to seven—there was a cautious knock on the door by the head of the bed.

"Gregor," a voice called—it was his mother!—"it's quarter to seven. Don't you want to be on your way?" The soft voice! Gregor was startled when he heard his voice answering. It was clearly and unmistakably his earlier voice, but he could only say the name of the creature he became. Gregor wanted to answer in detail and explain everything, but in these circumstances he confined himself to saying, "Chika! Chika!" Because of the wooden door the change in Gregor's voice was not really noticeable outside, so his mother calmed down with this explanation and shuffled off. However, as a result of the short conversation, the other family members became aware that Gregor was unexpectedly still at home, and already his father was knocking on one side door, weakly but with his fist. "Gregor, Gregor," he called out, "what's going on?" And, after a short while, he urged him on again in a deeper voice: "Gregor! Gregor!" At the other side door, however, his sister knocked lightly. "Gregor? Are you all right? Do you need anything?" Gregor directed answers in both directions, "Chika! Chika!" He made an effort with the most careful articulation and inserted long pauses between the individual words to remove everything remarkable from his voice. His father turned back to his breakfast. However, the sister whispered, "Gregor, open the door—I beg you." Gregor had no intention of opening the door, but congratulated himself on his precaution, acquired from travelling, of locking all doors during the   
night, even at home.

What will happen next? Find out next time on POKEMON!


End file.
